


Does the sun set on empty land?

by 1r1d35c3nc3



Category: Marble Hornets, Slender Man Mythos
Genre: Introspective Bullshit, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 02:24:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20127814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1r1d35c3nc3/pseuds/1r1d35c3nc3
Summary: He had a name once, and a house. He went to school and made meals at home that weren't packaged or microwaved. He had hobbies, he thinks, a real purpose. He had friends, and maybe more than that. It feels like both 5 years and 1 day ago that this all started.Some memories, so sharp they could cut his fingers like glass, but still smudged like a foggy mirror.





	Does the sun set on empty land?

**Author's Note:**

> big ass shrug

Time worked different here, in the Ark, he presumed. The shadows whispered with no mouths, telling him of things he should never have heard. All the time, even when he squeezes his his eyes shut and clamps his shakey hands over his ears, he can still hear them. The forest, them, and It. He barely felt alive, like a walking corpse, head, eyes and lips full of hymms and tongues nobody would understand.

The forest was quiet for once, the static had retreated to the back of his brain and he could breathe a little lighter. The gray smog that always clouds his eyes has lifted, but still he like feels as if his eyes have been staring at the same dense collection of trees for weeks as he moves from the unending brush, and when he blinks, he finds himself under a flickering streetlight in the last town he stopped in. When it began, it terrified him, knowing not how long he was gone or where he was, but he was used to it. It was normal now.

From the lapses in time to the random teleportation, it made it difficult to keep track of himself. He no longer had a home, a name, and only a few belongings he would protect with life.

  
If he was even still alive.

  
He had a name once, and a house. He went to school and made meals at home that weren't packaged or microwaved. He had hobbies, he thinks, a real purpose. He had friends, and maybe more than that. It feels like both 5 years and 1 day ago that this all started. 

Some memories, so sharp they could cut his fingers like glass, but still smudged like a foggy mirror.

  
A man with dirty glasses, a frown that usually hid a smile, and a video camera blinking in red. Sarcasm and dry wit that turned into thinly veiled animosity. Muted anxiety that laid over him like a blanket until he could hear the sound of metal scraping against concrete.

  
The executioner.

  
Alex.  
Alex...  
ALEX.  
ALEX ALEX ALEX ALEX ALEX ALEX ALEX ALEXALEXALEXALEXALE

  
He might not have set the trial, but he has conducted enough grief and tribulation that he must be put down. If you deprive oxygen from a fire, it will eventually go out.

  
His mind drifted to the left, the weary lens in his mind focusing on another blurry face.  
A crooked grin and a brown cap. Small jokes and big ideas. Trailing behind the executor with a camera of his own. Ignorant bliss, pain, and then nothing. Lonely nights with missing days burning through the mind.

  
Jay, the persecuted.

  
Like a bird in a net, caught by the executioner but set free. Pity, or a mistake? Either way, He smolders with his touch and continues to chase the smoke. You cannot keep bringing firewood if you don't want to burn.

  
  
Someone he always thought about, and remembered well, was Tim. He visited him in the forest after all, even though it didnt seem like him. His face, but not his eyes. His voice, but not how he sounded before. Same, but different. A beast hid behind those eyes, and for some reason it listened to him.

It made him angry, pissed him off. Tim slept and left this monster in its wake. Tim, who seemed to turn a blind eye to the quickly consuming madness.

  
Tim, the catalyst.

  
Tim. Tim, his best friend. maybe more? It didn't matter. He was Tim, the liar. Tim, the traitor. Tim, the innocent?? The misunderstood? The afraid?? His head told him one thing, and the forest told him another. When the beast wearing Tim's skin followed him, the forest would stick their sharp, gangly branches into his eyes and make him see the truth. The angry truth.  
But, that was the forest's truth. Tim made his head hurt. Tim was tim, but he also was not. The forest hisses in his ears, and although icey rage steams in his fists, he cannot bring himself to harm Tim or the beast.

Tim, the two-faced, but still innocent of the ill fate he was given. 

A tragedy. 

  
A small voice in the back of his head hopes he survives.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao this is rlly bad. it could have been better but im tired and just wanted to write something. hope you like it anyway <3


End file.
